


Fate of the Stars

by skeleton_narration



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Celestial, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, F/F, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Prophecy, Separate Childhoods, Slow To Update, Trans Dipper Pines, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22668400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeleton_narration/pseuds/skeleton_narration
Summary: There was once a war that shook the stars. The gods were destroyed, only to be reborn. In a never ending cycle, these gods would grow to be cut down.Eventually, all cycles must come to an end. Fate has been written and there is no more yarn left to knit.
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines/Wirt (Over the Garden Wall), Gregory & Wirt (Over the Garden Wall), Pacifica Northwest/Mabel Pines
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	1. Prologue

The Sun and the Moon were always relying on each other. Although they were distant, they still kept a watchful eye from above and met as frequently as they could. 

In ancient days, you could often see the gods mingle with the mortals. The sun and the moon were not often on the mortal plane together. It was whispered that although the siblings met rarely, they were still trusting and relied on one another. 

Still, even if the people knew the siblings were close, the worshipped the sun more. How could they not? The Sun, after all, had created the whole universe. It was from his blood that men were created, from the sweat of his brow came the streams and his laughter had created the mountains.

The Moon had played an important role as well. Without him, men would not have the souls they carry today, as they were given when he told them the secrets of the world. Without the moon, there would be no night sky, no map to be guided by. His brother had built streams but he created oceans, created the animals that resided alongside mortals.

And yet the people ignored the Moon god. The Sun god blessed their crops, kept them warm, and allowed them to see. The Moon god brought cold, he brought animals that were dangerous and hunted, and he brought darkness.

The Moon god became jealous of his brother. His brother received all the praise in the world. He received none. 

The Tactician of the Stars came to the Moon's side. He had helped the Moon write every note down, collect thoughts, and catalog all the Moon wished to keep. He advised the moon on each and every move, ensuring that there would be no fall. With his assistance, the Moon was able to bring contact the witch who ruled over dreams, a being much more powerful than the Moon could ever know with golden eyes and a silver tongue. 

The Witch whispered into the Moon's ears, gave him so much more knowledge that the Moon could have ever imagined beyond even the gods. The Sun god noticed the closeness of the Moon and the Witch and kept a wary eye on the slick figure next to his brother.

His brother, the Sun realized, no longer trusted him. No longer did the Moon feel that the Sun was his advocate and the person to run to. The Sun realized that he had been left behind. Although the loyal Knight of the Sky remained by his side, the Moon had begun to gain a strong power.

The Witch had whispered to him of power, the darkness that they could rise together and control over the world. If they snuffed out the sun, the Witch told the Moon, the Moon would have all the power, all of glory and praise. Everything in the stars that he could ever want would be given to him.

The Tactician tried to warn the Moon not to listen, tried to protect the moon but the Tactician was no warrior. The Tactician had tried his best but was quickly cast aside. The Knight, hearing word of this, informed the Sun. When the Sun heard of the Moon's plan, the Sun set his Knight out to finally rid them of the Witch.

The Witch conquered the Knight, casting spells and using tomes that easily defeated him. The Sun built up an army, fighting the Witch. He tried to convince his brother to join him, to abandon the Witch and to rule over the heavens with the Sun once more. 

It was far too late for the Moon, however, who the Witch’s claws had dug so deeply into the flesh of, leaving his mark, that the Moon’s own eyes had become golden. 

The Sun realized that there was no hope for his brother, and fought him. As they fought, each of their powers became incredibly strong. The sky shook and the earth quaked from the power and war. 

Still, despite their near equal match in power, the Sun was stronger than his brother. The Sun dove his sword deep into his brother's heart. As the Moon lay dying, his eyes became a familiar silver. He asked his brother to take his power, to banish the Witch once and for all. 

With heavy grief in the Sun's heart, he accepted the Moon's request. 

The Moon that night had been stained red, and the mortals below feared what had happened.

The Sun, however, was not yet done. With his brother's power combined with his, he struck down the Witch. But the Witch was clever, very clever indeed imagining to sneak in one last blow to the Sun.

For a day, the Sun became overcome with darkness that burned any mortal that dare look at it. 

The Godly brothers had been defeated, leaving the others scattered throughout the stars. The Witch had been banished but still, he lurked with some power still in the mortal plane. 

He sought the Gods through different dimensions, preventing their full return to power and status with the mortals. Each time twins were born, the Witch would strike them down from the shadows.

Twins were born. They grew up, close, and eventually brought each other to ruin. Until one cycle came, and the twins were separated for their own protection. Under their guardians, they were meant to grow and become powerful before they could defeat the Witch for once and for all. 

Even with the distance between them, the Twins were bound by fate to find one another.


	2. Dipper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i havent finished the drawing for this yet but ive had it in my drafts for a while so *drops it off*

The summer brought storms that had a vengeance. The sky let out a booming, thunderous laugh at Dipper who was trying his best to remain on his bike. Perhaps, if he were a smarter man, he would have looked at the weather and made sure that he didn’t get caught in the rain. But Dipper was a certain breed of idiot who never planned things around sensible worries. He grew up in California, in an area where storms were rare and droughts were plentiful. Dipper faulted his lack of storm care to the fact that he had never dealt with storms of this size just appearing. Massachusetts wasn’t the most temperamental state in the weather but apparently, Zeus decided to play a cruel joke on Dipper that day. 

He could have taken the bus to get home but it was going to take two hours longer than it would have if he just biked. Uber was too expensive and he didn’t want to have to deal with shoving his bike into a stranger's trunk. Biking was really the only option to him, even if the rain was really pouring down now. 

He regretted not taking an Uber from his editor's house to his apartment as soon as his bike brakes decided to stop working. Crashing into a trashcan wasn’t the least dignified thing that happened to him that day. No, that would have been when he managed to spill his coffee all over the counter as soon as the barista handed it to him. Or when he had gotten very loudly chewed out (it had been well deserved, to be fair) by his grunkle over the phone, not realizing that it was audible to the people around him. As he laid there on the concrete, the rain began to hit his face. It didn’t take Dipper very long to become soaked to the bone, the water finding its way into his head.

He blinked, dazed. The wind was knocked out of him and the rainwater hitting him in the face wasn’t helping in the slightest.

Dipper didn’t register the footsteps approaching him, but he was suddenly covered by a black umbrella. A man was looking down at him, a furrow of concern in his brow. 

“Are you okay?” The stranger asked, shifting the umbrella so that Dipper stayed cover.

The stranger was pretty. Very pretty. “Uh.” Smart. Good. Words were good. A dull ache was spreading throughout his back and he let out a pathetic wheeze as he tried to form another word.

“Are you hurt? Can you sit up?” The stranger was looking at him intensely and Dipper had a feeling that he didn’t really know what to do, given the panicked expression on his face. “Oh geez,” the stranger looked over his shoulder before his hands were on Dipper’s shoulders, helping him sit up. Sitting up made it easier for him to breathe.

Dipper realized that he still hadn’t said anything. 

“I’m good,” it was wheezy and he gave the stranger a very thin smile. “Just— the wind just got knocked out of me.”

The stranger's lips pressed into a very thin and worried line.

“We should head inside. The storm is just going to get worse. Do you think you’ll be okay to stand?” He asked Dipper, Dipper only nodded in response. He stood slowly, gathering his twisted bike.

The stranger moved with him, careful not to remove the umbrella from where it was over both of them. He figured that he should ask where they were going but the question was answered before he could say anything, the stranger leading him inside a small shop that was housed between two large buildings, a narrow alleyway on each side. 

The shop was warm and the stranger put down his umbrella once inside. It smelled like coffee and books. Which was a given, considering the number of books inside. 

“Do you work here?” Dipper’s voice was still raspy but his breath was back. He felt bad about bringing his bike there.

The stranger gave him a smile and Dipper ignored the warmth that spread throughout him when he saw it. 

“It’s my shop,” the stranger told him, setting the umbrella down before he began to walk away from Dipper. 

“You should sit down. I’ll get you a towel,” there were chairs by the front of the shop that the stranger gestured to and Dipper walked over to them. He sat down and couldn’t help but keep looking around. The shop was pretty large, given the size of the building. Two stories, nicely set up. The stranger couldn’t have been much older than him but he somehow had a vast sprawling bookshop. There was a hallway, small, that led to something that looked like a cafe. 

Dipper wondered how long the shop had been there, to be so large and organized. 

Dipper heard voices far into the shop, given how late it was, he doubted it was a customer. The owner was probably talking to a worker. 

When the stranger returned, he had a towel in his hands. A red-headed woman trailed behind him, giving Dipper a wary glance. The stranger handed him the towel, which Dipper accepted with a small ‘thank you’. He took off his helmet, running the towel through his hair. 

“I’m Wirt,” the stranger — Wirt, his name was Wirt, which was weird but not the weirdest name out there — said. “Are you sure you feel okay? That was a pretty hard fall.” 

Dipper grimaced, “Yeah. I’m fine. I’ll probably just be bruised,” he admitted. He could already feel the bruises along his back. 

“I’m Dipper, by the way,” he stuck his hand out to Wirt, who blinked at it before giving it a small shake. Wirt’s hand was warm, his fingers were long and even his hands were pretty. “Thanks for helping me out,” he drew his hand back, bunching it up in the towel and tried not to focus on how stupidly warm Wirt’s hand had been. 

“It seemed like a pretty hard crash,” Wirt said, shrugging a little bit. He didn’t seem any more sure of himself in there than he did outside after finding Dipper covered in trash in the rain.

“I just have to know what kind of idiot you are to go biking in a storm,” the red-headed girl said, her tone curt. She raised an eyebrow at Dipper.

“I didn’t want to pay for an Uber?” Dipper stated though it sounded more like a question.

The girl snorted. “Those shits are too expensive.”

Dipper nodded his head.

“Well,” Wirt spoke and Dipper stared at him. For a moment, he lingered too long on his face. His nose was a bit long and his ears peeked out just a bit from his hair but Dipper didn’t think either of those things were unattractive on him. His skin was a warm olive tone that seemed more golden under the light in the book shop, his eyes were a rich brown, looking honeyed in the lighting, framed by dark eyelashes that Dipper couldn’t help but stare at. Doe-eyed. Dipper looked away, feeling like he was staring for too long.

“I was going to drive Beatrice home,” Wirt continued, gesturing to the redhead next to him who hadn’t stopped staring at Dipper, her expression making it clear that she could care less about what happened to him. “I could drop you off if you want. The next bus doesn’t come for nearly an hour. You can just leave your bike here, too.”

“I wouldn’t want to be any trouble,” Dipper found himself saying, his eyes darting between Beatrice and Wirt. Wirt fixed him with another gentle smile and Dipper definitely blushed and severely hoped that the other two don’t notice. 

“It won’t be trouble at all. If you really wanted to wait for the bus that’s fine too, I’ll just have to wait with you,” Wirt told him, “Kinda can’t leave a stranger alone in my shop.”

“Right, yeah, that makes sense,” either way he was going to have to intrude somehow.

“Okay,” Dipper agreed, sounding dumb to even his own ears. Partly because he needed a ride, partly because Wirt sounded determined to give him one, and mainly because Wirt was stupidly attractive. Beatrice snorted again, beginning to walk towards the back of the shop. Dipper sat there for a moment, watching as Wirt locked the front door before he was standing up. 

He followed Wirt to the back, the bookshop owner shutting the lights off behind him. Beatrice was waiting for them by a door near what Dipper guessed was the stock room. Her foot propped the door open, leading out into a back parking lot that looked more than a little shady with the time of day and the weather.

“You two aren’t going to murder me out here, right?” Dipper couldn’t help but ask. 

“We only murder here on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Wirt replied, punching in a code on an alarm. It beeped loudly and the three of them left the shop, the door locking itself behind them.

“I guess I’m lucky that it’s Wednesday, then,” Dipper followed them to the car. Beatrice walked ahead of them to the car and gave a tug at the passenger side door, giving Wirt a look over her shoulder when it didn’t open the first time. The rain was still coming down and she jumped in as soon as the doors were open.

Dipper climbed into the back and was comforted to find that the car was warm. Beatrice began to fiddle with the radio as soon as the car actually started. Wirt turned around and looked at him from the driver's seat.

“Where do you live?” He asked him, handing Dipper over his phone for— Dipper guessed—him to punch in his address. 

“Not too far away,” Dipper said after he put his address in, handing Wirt his phone back. Wirt gave him another smile. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen your shop before,” it was five minutes from his house. Dipper wondered how many times he had ridden or walked passed the shop.

“We’re a hole in the wall,” Wirt stated, beginning the drive to Dipper’s apartment. “Unless you’re really looking for us, you don’t tend to see us.” 

Dipper could spend hours in a bookstore if he was allowed to. He could spend days in the library too (he didn’t have to pay money to look at the books there). It was odd that he hadn’t seen the shop before then. Dipper guessed it could be the whole in the wall syndrome. He figured it was better not to question it, probably just him being oblivious. Beatrice seemed to have finally decided on something to listen too, a song full of trumpets and strings.    
He wasn’t sure what to say so he said nothing, just letting the silence fall over the three of them. The song was nice, Beatrice tapping the rhythm of it out on the door. The silence itched at Dipper’s skin, he didn’t know the two of them and it wasn’t easy for him to fall quiet with people he already knew. 

“How long have you had the shop?” Dipper asked because he had nothing else to say.

Wirt looked at him in the rearview mirror. 

“Since I was twenty,” Wirt answered and Dipper felt the burning question of  _ how _ on his tongue but Dipper didn’t push for it. Something about that seemed like it was fragile. “I worked there since a teenager, though.”

“So have I,” Beatrice joined in on the conversation. “I make better lattes than he does,” she sounded smug, Dipper couldn’t see her face as he sat behind her, but he imagined there was a small smile there.

“Not better than Greg.”

“Just because he gets more tips doesn’t mean his drinks are better,” Beatrice stated, but there wasn’t any venom in her words. The conversation sounded like something that they’ve argued about before and was most likely a joke between the two of them now.

“I’d beg to differ,” Wirt hummed. “Have you lived in this area long?” Wirt asked him as he turned onto Dipper’s street. Dipper hadn’t realized how close they were to his place until that point. 

“A year, maybe less,” Dipper admitted. “It’s closer to my editor's office.”

“You a writer or something?” Beatrice asked him.

“Or something,” he was never sure how to say that he wrote a decently popular supernatural fiction series and ran a podcast as well. Saying those two were definitely held some sort of shame with them, and he always felt like he was bragging when he brought it up. 

He didn’t get to say anything else because Wirt was pulling up in front of his apartment building. Dipper unbuckled his seatbelt. 

“Thank you for the ride. And for not letting me die in the rain.”

“I doubt you were going to die,” Wirt fixed him with an amused expression. “But you’re welcome. Stop by the shop sometime?” 

Dipper, despite himself, felt bubbly at the thought and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“I do need to get my bike back eventually,” he replied. 

Dipper left the car, and even though the rain no longer seemed to hit him, he still jogged into his building because he wasn’t going to risk getting even wetter than he already was.

His editor had been bugging him about a release meet and greet since Dipper had never done one before. To her, it was a path to become a “legit” author. He didn’t wait till he got on his laptop to pull out his phone and send out an email to his editor, agreeing to the idea.

Dipper didn’t work up the nerve to go back to the shop until two days had almost passed. He went in the afternoon. It was a Friday after school had let out, and the shop had a surprising amount of teenagers wandering about. Most seemed to be lingering by the cafe area or looking at niche books. Some looked like they were on a hunt, no doubt trying to find a book for an assignment.

It was just as warm as it had been before but with now that it was actually alive, Dipper couldn’t help but think it was warmer. The low hum of energy was nice. The shop wasn’t full but it wasn’t empty, you could still avoid people if you wanted. There was a bit more noise from the coffee shop side of things, however.

He stood there for too long, looking around and capturing how it the place looked when it was functioning. A worker approached him, a teenager in a deep green apron, his hands shoved into the front pockets. The name tag pinned to his collar read ‘Greg’ and Dipper vaguely remembered the name being brought up the night had met Beatrice and Wirt. Greg’s eyes, Dipper realized after a moment, were the same shade of warm brown that Wirt’s were.

“Do you need help finding something?” Greg the teenager asked him, giving Dipper an odd expression. He had a wide smile at his face, looked nothing short of friendly but he seemed to know that Dipper was thinking hard about something. 

“Do you guys have  _ House of Leaves _ ?” It was the first title that came to Dipper’s mind. He had been meaning to read it, and for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to ask the teen about Wirt. Which was ridiculous since this was an employee and Dipper was under the guise of needing to get his bike back.

“Oh! That book is super cool!” Greg looked excited and he turned on his heels. “Follow me.” 

Dipper did, following the teenager up the stairs to where there was a large fiction section. He continued to follow Greg until they end up in the horror section. Greg didn’t pause, leading Dipper by memory down in between two bookshelves. 

They paused in front of one and Greg hummed, thinking. “It should be… there it is!” Greg squatted down to the ground in front of the books, Dipper squatted with him. Greg’s hand lingered on the spine of one of the copies. 

“Are you looking for a particular copy?” Greg asked, his eyebrows raised in question. 

“No, thanks,” Dipper told him. Greg gave him another wide grin.

“No problem! We have  _ The Whalestoe Letters _ too. I prefer  _ House of Leaves  _ though,” Greg chipperly informed him before standing. “Let me know if you need help finding anything else.”

“I will.” 

Satisfied, Greg went to leave, not bothering to watch Dipper pick a book out from the row in front of him. He wondered for a moment if he should pick up the sequel to before deciding that no, he would be fine with just the first one. It was going to take him forever to get through it, anyway. Dipper was busy enough with making sure the promotions for his own book were good and  _ House of Leaves  _ received its fame from the odd way that it was written.

Curious, he couldn’t help himself and explore. He scanned the fiction section until he came across where he (guessed) his books would be. Dipper found his own books, tucked neatly in between several other copies. The shop had more of the first book than the sequel at the moment. Dipper still had that weird feeling of “is this real?” and sense of pride when it came to holding a copy of his own book in a proper store. 

Greg found him there. 

“You like Mason Pines too? He’s one of my favorite authors, I’m excited for the third installment of the series.” 

Dipper put the book back where it belonged. He resisted the urge to give Greg a shit-eating grin at the compliment. 

“I don’t know, I think he can get a bit wordy at times,” Dipper shrugged.

Greg considered that for a moment before he nods.

“I get that. He does describe things but they’re good descriptions, and I don’t think they take away from the story.” Dipper bit back the urge to thank Greg for that, his editor got on his case constantly about his  _ loquacious _ mannerism but it was nice to hear that it was appreciated.

A voice called for Greg somewhere else on the second floor.

“Greg!” Dipper recognized it almost too quickly as Wirt’s. Wirt rounded the corner, his attention focused on Greg. “Greg, do you think you could go out and help — “ Wirt stops his words when he sees Dipper.

“I wasn’t expecting you to actually come back,” familiarity was quick to appear on Wirt’s face.

“I haven’t had the time but I figured I’d need to come back for my bike eventually,” Dipper kept the conversation light, treading carefully.

“It’s in the office, happy that it hasn’t run into any more trash cans,” Wirt’s tone was teasing. Okay. So they could be casual.

Greg looked between Dipper and Wirt. 

“Oh!” Realization lights up his face, “That’s trashcan guy!” Greg gestured to Dipper as he spoke. “Dipper, right?” He looked at him now. “Wirt was telling me all about you when he came home the other night. It was funny, he actually wouldn’t—” 

Wirt seemed to remember why he was looking for Greg then, quickly interrupting the teen.

“Greg, do you think you can go help bring in the new shipment?” Wirt asked him and Greg looked at him in a peculiar way. A series of small expressions pass between the two that Dipper couldn’t read. 

“Sure,” Greg said before leaving the two of them alone. He gave Wirt one last look that had Wirt rolling his eyes.

“Are you going to buy that?” Wirt asked him, pointing to the book in Dipper’s hands.

“Yeah,” he nods. 

“I can check you out, come on,” he tilted his head just slightly, gesturing for Dipper to follow him. Dipper followed him with ease, letting Wirt lead him back down the stairs. 

“I’m glad you came back,” Wirt told him, both of them on the stairs. Dipper brushed against his shoulder just a bit as they stopped. No one seemed to be heading upstairs so they just stood, there was no need to move.

“Sorry about Greg, by the way,” he smiled at Dipper, “Younger siblings.” He shrugged as if Dipper was supposed to understand that.

“I’m an only child,” Dipper informed him. “But there’s no need to apologize, he did help me find the book I was looking for,” Dipper held it up as he spoke.

“He did,” Wirt agreed with him, his gaze lingering on Dipper before he started down the stairs again. The walk to the register wasn’t very far from the stairs. “It’s a good choice, by the way.”

“He said the same thing,” Dipper handed it to Wirt who hummed as he scanned it. For the first time since he entered the store, Dipper realized that there was music on. It was jazzy, playing at just the right volume, he had almost missed it. A woman in the song sung about moonglow.

“I am happy you came back,” Wirt told him, as he rang Dipper up. That made Dipper fumble with his wallet just slightly.

“Yeah?” He asked, looking at Wirt. The two of them held eye contact for a moment, Wirt taking the card from Dipper’s hands gently, their fingertips brushing against each other just slightly.

“Yeah. The bike takes up a lot of space,” Wirt said and it startled a laugh out of Dipper. 

“Sorry about that. I’ll take it back today,” he grinned at him.

Wirt gave him another smile.

“Will you be needing anything else today?” Wirt’s voice shifted from casual to the perfect customer service happy. It sounded unnatural like all of them do.

“Actually. I was wondering if I could talk to you about something,” Dipper stated. Wirt raised an eyebrow at him, a puzzled expression on his face. He was doe-eyed and it made Dipper’s knees feel a little bit weak. “It’s nothing bad, I promise,” he clarified, realizing that his statement sounded a bit ominous. Wirt considered him before nodding.

“Okay,” Wirt agreed. He looked over to where another worker was, another teenager that didn’t look too much older than Greg. “Do you have the front?” He asked. The teenager nodded and waved their hand dismissively. He turned back to Dipper, “I’m guessing you don’t need a bag?” 

Dipper shook his head.

“I’ll be fine without one. Thanks though.” Wirt nodded at that and the two of them left the front register. Again, Dipper followed Wirt, this time to the office. Dipper held the book in his hands, the weight of it is comforting.

The office was comfortable. It was sparse but it did have comfortable looking chairs. There was an electric kettle in there and a small fridge. A small space, probably because the rest of the shop was so large and already comfortable, but Dipper could tell that it got the job done. 

“You wanted to talk?” Wirt looked at him, leaning against the desk. He pushed his sleeves up and Dipper was momentarily distracted by how he looked. The light in the office was harsher than the rest of the light in the shop but Wirt didn’t look washed out—at least, not to Dipper. 

“I think I mentioned being a writer before,” Dipper began.

“Or something,” Wirt said, the teasing tone was back in his voice and Dipper smiled at him.

“Or something,” he agreed with a nod. “I write under a pseudonym, but my editor has been… pushing for me to make a public appearance. We’ve been talking about doing a reveal of who I am and that’s the best way she thought we could go about,” it was probably more info than what Wirt probably needed but the man listened to him anyway, “And I saw that you had my books upstairs, and you have good space plus I actually like you,” Dipper bit his tongue at the end, worried how that might come off.

Wirt didn’t seem to think anything of it, his expression changing as he put together what Dipper was saying.

“So, you want to make a public appearance here?” Wirt asked him, easily picking up what Dipper was skating around.

Dipper nodded. 

“I don’t see why not,” Wirt shrugged and Dipper felt the familiar tight feeling of extreme excitement in his chest. “I mean, like you said, it’s a nice space. And I like you too,” he looked at Dipper and Dipper had to look away. The words carried way more weight than what he was prepared for right now. He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling sheepish.

“Good to know,” he said.

“What’s the name of your series?” Wirt asked, the topic shifting, and Dipper grinned at him.

“Arcs of Night and Day,” he answered. He watched as Wirt’s expression changed. It went from recognition to surprise to a bit starstruck in his eyes, and then finally settled on what seemed like a mixture of all three. 

“You’re Mason Pines?” Wirt asked him. Dipper nodded. “I’m guessing Dipper is a nickname?”

“Yeah. I felt ridiculous putting it as my legal first name but no one really calls me Mason aside from fans of the books. Plus, Mason is more professional than Dipper,” if Wirt had questions about the legal name thing, he didn’t ask them. 

“Greg’s a big fan of your books,” Wirt smiled at him, fondness hinted at the corners of his mouth. 

“He told me earlier,” Dipper admitted, biting down on his lower lip to control his smile. 

“I’m afraid to admit that I only read the first book, I don’t really have a lot of time given... everything,” he gestured to outside the office. “I enjoyed it. You write siblings really well for someone who’s an only child.” 

He felt like Wirt wanted to say more but he held himself back. Dipper found himself wanting to hear him say everything. Was it realistic? Did Dipper manage to catch the essence between two siblings? Were the two of them relatable? Was it just a casual compliment? 

“Thanks,” Dipper didn’t ask any of the questions he had, not wanting to overwhelm Wirt with it all.

“So, what were you thinking? And when.” 

“It’ll be a meet and greet type of thing, talk about the book and read an excerpt or something to get people hyped about the release. I already talked to my editor about it and she thinks having it here is a good idea too.”

“You spoke to your editor first before speaking to me?” Wirt didn’t seem mad but Dipper felt a bit guilty anyway.

“Was that a bad move?” 

“It worked out, didn’t it?” Wirt told him, Dipper wasn’t sure how to reply to that so he just nodded. 

“I’ll give you my editors’ contact information. It’s probably a good idea that you reach out to her too,” Dipper moved closer to Wirt, who was ready to take the name, number, and email address of his editor. 

When that was done, he didn’t look over at Wirt. “Do you, uh, do you want my number too? For professional reasons. Obviously.” He looked at him now, once he said everything.

“Yeah. I’d like that,” there was a spotty blush on Wirt’s face and he crossed his arms as he spoke. 

Dipper gave him a grin. He felt, for a moment, that things were clicking into place. This was the beginning of something. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi it’s me again. This AU is a big one so it may take longer than my last, especially since some chapters will have illustrations and I’m also working on my own book.
> 
> Instagram: prieto_art  
> Tumblr: skeleton-narration


End file.
